


Snow Globes

by JazzRaft



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Food Porn, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Slice of Life, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 03:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16802785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: Winters across Eos vary. From the gentle dreams of Altissia, to the silent mornings of Lucis, and to the frozen tempests of Gralea, there's a different temper to every country. And a pretty boy to go with it.Part 1: Ignis/Noctis | Part 2: Nyx/Noctis | Part 3: Ravus/Noctis





	1. Silent Night

**Author's Note:**

> Some winter scenery-gasms, food-gasms, and pretty boys being in love with Noctis-gasms, challenged with Aithilin to start the holiday season!

He wasn’t sure what woke him.

He’d always been a relatively light sleeper – a residual habit left over from when Noct was sick, snapping up from a dead slumber at the slightest sniffle or shift warning Ignis of his nightmares approaching. Sleep – _deep_ sleep, the sleep so far under reality where dreams were amnesia when waking up – was an indulgence Ignis learned early he couldn’t afford, lest he risk some horror – unreal or not – befalling his prince.

He’d trained himself to keep both ears open while both eyes were closed during the night. To hear what he couldn’t see when the obligation of slumber demanded he set aside his obligations to Noct. While he could never bring himself to surrender that responsibility entirely, he did learn to compromise with his other senses when the rest of his body begged for its daily rest.

Tonight, he awoke to no sound at all. He opened his eyes and stared at the phantom opulence of the hotel ceiling in the off-darkness. It only took him a moment to blink away the blur in his eyes and sharpen his focus to seek out what woke him. Sometimes the absence of noise was louder than any crash or cry.

It was an oddly familiar feeling, not sinister, not charged by the nervous energy of knowing something was wrong. But there was a sort of anticipation in the temperate air of their elegant, Altissia apartments. A difference in comfort from the chic softness of the Leville. This was a stranger sort of softness, something nostalgic and safe that he couldn’t put a word to.

When he turned his head, he did not find Noct’s beside his on the pillow. Instead, his prince’s silhouette haunted the tall windows of the suite, pale fingers parting the curtains to invite inside ethereal gray light. Silent shadows passed lazily over his face, like butterflies’ wings in spring. But the warmth of springtime was still a distant dream to be yearned for in the middle of winter.

Noctis noticed him watching, eyes winking like two blue stars in the darkness. A small, gentle smile ghosted across his face, reminding Ignis in his half-awake delirium of a Noctis from ten years ago; a child of innocent fascination with all the world’s natural delights. Which was when Ignis recognized why he had awoken.

It was snowing.

“Sorry, Specs. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Nonsense,” Ignis said, sitting up and probing the bedside table for his glasses. “Wouldn’t want to sleep through the first snowfall of the year.”

It was almost like an unsaid tradition between them. Though it was nothing they had ever agreed upon observing every year – how could they; there wasn’t a timestamp for snowfall they could plot out on a calendar – Noct’s innate instinct for a change in weather had meant they never missed the first snowfall of winter.

Ignis padded across the floor to join him, chill tile against bare feet lashing his skin awake. For one, brief flicker of feeling clammy toes again cold floor, he was back in time, back in the Citadel, stumbling across Noct’s room to press his nose to the glass and stare in open-mouthed awe at the first snowflakes gathering across Insomnia.

Altissia captured snow like a gingerbread village. Fat, ivory flakes alighted like delicate curls of cake frosting piped across the spires and steps. Soundless stars landed upon the black glass of the canals, round ripples of frozen droplets glittering under the midnight lamplight. The city had been prepared for the arrival of the winter rush long before they had arrived, the boulevards and residents decorated in silver string lights and golden garlands, burgundy bows and needled, green foliage. Lights twinkled from beneath the coats of snow, trilling amidst the steady cascade of snowflakes like a child’s laughter.

A gentle tug on the drawstrings of his pajama pants drew Iggy’s eyes away from the idyllic winter village beyond the glass. Noctis bit his lip in a grin, eyes bright with excitement.

“You wanna?” he asked.

Ignis considered with a quiet sigh, fetching his phone to check the time. A little past midnight, not that time was often considered amidst the circuit of tourist-city life. Checking the time was merely a habit of his responsibilities. Ignis knew they were going the second Noctis asked.

“I’ll fetch our coats.”

“You’re the best, Specs.”

The hotel was asleep as they crept from their room on cat’s paws, padding down the stairs, to the lobby, and out past the dozing concierge. They only made a sound once the glass doors clicked mutely closed behind them, and the fall of snowy, winter air breezed into their lungs.

“Wow,” Noctis said, breathing out a silver cloud as he trotted across the open street to the canal docks. “It doesn’t even look real.”

If Ignis didn’t have Noct’s footprints in the snow to prove to him it was, he might have agreed with him. But it wasn’t so much the city, sparkling with snowflakes in the moonlight, which looked like a fairytale to him.

Snow weaved into Noct’s hair the instant he stepped beneath its cascade, stark white crystals of ice like pearls sewn to black velvet. Already, his nose and his lips were warming red with the cold, his smile blooming like a pale pink rose under the street-light. It only belatedly occurred to Ignis to ask if he was warm enough – his coat, though well-loved, was a worn out, dark gray duffel without a hood. The dark blue plaid shirt he wore underneath had a thin hood hanging over the back of his coat, though it was more stylish than insulated.

Ignis sunk his leather-gloved hands into the pockets of his black trench coat, swallowing his admiration of Noct to make sure he was prepared for the walk. But Noct wasn’t keen on being babied tonight. He was ready for adventure, taking Iggy’s hand from his pocket the second he was within reach to lead him down the dusted avenue.

“I do hope you have a destination in mind,” Ignis teased, closing his covered fingers around Noct’s exposed ones. “Wandering through the snow is only fun for the first hour, before you start to catch a chill.”

“C’mon, Specs, can’t we just enjoy the moment?”

“I enjoy every moment with you, Noct.”

Noctis pulled himself closer along the anchor of their linked hands, looping his arm through Iggy’s to hug as they traversed the frosted city. “Such a sweet-talker.”

Even with the glittering lights brightening the sheets of snow, most of Altissia slumbered in suspended animation beneath the blanket. The fountains kept babbling in the squares, heated year-round to keep from freezing, though the splashes of water trickling from the seahorses’ snouts shined as bright as gil bouncing from the pools. Potted winter plants decorated the street side doorsteps, sharp red petals of poinsettias bleeding from beneath the pristine white snow. Silver and gold baubles decorated window boxes in nests of pine branches, replacing the summertime blooms that dripped down the walls of the canal-side homes in the warmer months.

Noct’s nose and Iggy’s ears lead them to the big, round plaza of Leviathan’s statue. Ignis had recognized the dulcet chords of an Altissian street choir caroling between the alleys, and Noctis whiffed the sweet scent of sugar melting over the open fire of a street vendor’s grill.

They were not the only ones enchanted by the magic of the first snowfall. A sprinkling of local artisans spotted the plaza, carolers crooning at Leviathan’s fins with accordions and guitars, two vendors humming idly along to the impromptu melodies.

“Midnight snack?” Noctis offered, framed like a question, even when he was already approaching a vendor with his hands in his pockets in search of his wallet. “My treat!”

Ignis couldn’t stop him if he tried, nor would he ever want to. Noct’s enthusiasm for seasonal indulgences was infectious, a pull of childhood idealism lifting the corners of Iggy’s lips as he surveyed the square. Leviathan looked almost serene under the snowfall, her sharp maw padded with soft, cottony flakes, even more still in her hand-crafted slumber without the sunlight scalding her awake.

A warm paper bag was placed in Iggy’s hand, drifts of sweet, fragrant steam rising to warm his nose. Upon analysis, Ignis dissected fluffy clouds of popped corn kernels, dark roasted hazelnuts, the distinct scent of crushed peanuts, a golden glaze of caramel sauce, and a motley, mysterious blend of ground nuts and secret spices to pool the mix together.

“What is it about snow that always seems to bring out your sweet tooth?” Ignis asked, smiling as he observed Noctis, already plucking generous handfuls of the savory-sweet confection into his mouth.

“When is my sweet tooth not out, Iggy?”

He had him there. And he couldn’t fault his sweet tooth, either. It never steered them wrong in terms of taste – though it could do with some lessons in quantity control. The caramel was warm and melted and sweet, the nuts crunchy and bursting with flavor, unlocked from toasting, and the popcorn was soft on his tongue, like a hot snowflake caught there to melt.

They sat on the rim of the fountain, quietly applauding the carolers reveling around the benches and admiring the view Leviathan was blessed with every day. Altissia sprawled out below them, delicately cloaked in snow, lights whispering like secrets from between the drifts.

“Prompto’s going to be so mad I didn’t get a picture,” Noctis chuckled, making no move to prove any feelings of guilt by pulling out his phone to take a snapshot.

Ignis was kind of glad he didn’t. He wanted them to enjoy the moment, the privacy of the sleeping, snow covered city, the intimacy of warmth shared between their coats. He just wanted this to be for them. Their own little, unplanned tradition.

“Think we’ll be snowed in from going home a little longer?” Noctis asked him, eyes full of hope as he watched the flakes float down from a midnight sky.

Ignis smiled. “Let’s just say that we were.”

Weather permitting – and even if it did – Ignis planned on enjoying Noctis in Altissia a little bit longer. And by the way Noctis sidled up to his side along the fountain, he was right there with him.


	2. Frozen Catch

“It’s cold.”

“It’s the dead of winter, Noct.”

“Do they call it ‘dead of winter’ for all the people who die in winter? Because I’m about to be one of those people.”

Oh, his fair, sweet, indoor, city flower. He’d tried to warn him that the shock of the country climate might mean he’d shrivel up and die. He’d tried to prepare him for the brutality of winter outside the cozy confines of the Wall. He’d tried to tell him that winter in Lucis was a lot different from winter in Insomnia.

But it was always, “Nah, the cold doesn’t bother me,” or, “It’s not like I’ve never seen snow, Nyx,” or, “Winter’s the same anywhere you go, Nyx.” Well, he couldn’t blame him for the cold, now that they were here. This was all Noct’s idea, anyway.

“This was a dumb idea,” Noctis freely admitted, without any coercion. “Even the fish have to be hibernating in this cold!”

“Is the self-proclaimed ‘King of Fishing’ really going to let a little cold keep him from his catch?”

The look Noctis gave him could have flayed him open, deboned and gutted him just as deftly as any trout at the mercy of Noct’s filleting knife. Nyx held up his hands, conceded to the “King,” and pulled open the bed of the truck. He’d warm up once they got settled, and maybe Nyx would show him some mercy by starting the campfire earlier.

Duscae was near silent in the winter dawn. The songbirds were sleeping, the garula herds departed for greener pastures until spring thawed the grass, and even the mighty catoblepas had vanished from their dawn-time grazing to wait for the snow to melt. Traffic and tourists were left hibernating in the warmer cities, Lestallum, especially, an oasis in the frozen wilds that Nyx was keeping in mind for future shelter. But there were small, fishing cabins along the frozen lake of Duscae that he was counting on to make warm.

He hadn’t traveled greater Lucis purely for his own leisure in… well, ever. Leaving Insomnia had always ever been to fight, to scout, to shepherd some important figure or document or item through war-torn Lucis. He’d seen Leide’s clay crags cracked open in an oven-baked summer, seen the hills of Cleigne struck through with gold under Ravatogh’s red, autumn glow. He’d dreaded the snow, climbing through knee-deep drifts to reach a bluff overseeing enemy camps, dreaded the nip of the cold on his fingertips in the dead of daemonic nights as he searched the shadows over campfire light.

Lucis like this, with no war to fight, no daemons to dread in the light of the dawn, looked as peaceful as his own soul felt. The towering pines of the Duscaen forest were heavy with snow, cones of frosting bunched along the lakeshore. The lake itself spanned the bowl of the canyon like cellophane, translucent and glimmering under the rising sun blinking awake between the distant Duscaen arches of which it was so famed.

It was quiet, remote, like they were the only ones left in the whole world to enjoy it. Nyx didn’t mind that idea much. He hadn’t been able to have Noct all to himself in a long time. He enjoyed the privacy of his company, cold complaints and all.

“You’ll warm up once you do some heavy lifting,” Nyx promised him, dropping the fish cooler into the Prince’s hands.

“I’m a Prince, not a pack-mule,” Noctis tried to protest, playing the spoiled brat in an effort to guilt Nyx into doing all the work.

His pout was only so powerful. They split the load – tackle boxes, rods, backpacks and blankets – and headed out onto the lake, ice treads grinding into the slippery surface. They set up close to the snow-covered cabin, with its little dock standing atop the ice. That’s where Noctis set up shop, his whining dwindling down to pondering the best tackle for ice fishing and how best to prepare to wait out the nibbling.

“You want to do this the good ol’ fashioned way? Or do you want to cheat?” Nyx asked in regards to punching a hole through the ice for the line.

Noctis smirked, giving Nyx a look that said, “Do you really have to ask?” He did the honors, twisting his wrist and conjuring a controlled jet of flame to melt their chosen patch down to the water. It wasn’t cheating if no one saw you do it, right? Why suffer the cold when they had all the elements of Eos at their fingertips?

Nyx set up a campfire on the coast with the same, snap of his fingers while Noctis perched on the edge of the dock and dropped his line into the hole. After that was just a matter of waiting. And Nyx was happy to wait beside Noctis, gazing out at the white wonderland sparkling in the sunrise across the lake.

“I take it back,” Noctis said, a little while into his silent contemplation of which fish would be at what depth. “This was a good idea.”

“I know. You’re full of them.”

Noctis grinned, warmed by Nyx’s faith in him. As much as his friends adored him, no one was willing to sacrifice their cozy apartments in the Crown City to indulge the prince an attempt at ice fishing – and if Noct’s initial complaints were anything to go by, he couldn’t blame them. But Nyx was happy to volunteer for a rustic, winter getaway, just the two of them. He sat close to Noct now, a hand on his thigh and imparting as much of his own warmth beneath his layers of clothes as he could. Noctis dropped his head to Nyx’s shoulder with a contented purr, whispers of cloudy breath curling past his lips.

“Noct, I know you say you can fish in your sleep, but…”

“I won’t fall asleep,” Noctis promised, though his closed eyes didn’t inspire much confidence. “Isn’t that one of the first rules of surviving the arctic wilderness?”

“So you _do_ pay attention when I talk.”

“Of course! You make even the boring things sound sexy.”

Nyx snorted in laughter, rolling his eyes as Noctis made a comically suggestive sound and snuggled closer. Most of the day was spent like that, quietly enjoying the warmth of each other’s company, the pristine rolls of untouched snow around them, the gentle hiss of a temperate breeze through the pines, and the occasional rush of snow collapsing from the boughs throughout the forest.

Noctis caught fish without much pomp and circumstance, not like the exuberant victories of summertime catches. Ice fishing – if it were even possible – was a much slower experience than the active reel-ins of summer. The fish were lower, slower, the cold leaving both hunter and prey lethargic and lazy. But Nyx still got to see that sweet, pleased smile on Noct’s frostbitten lips as he dragged his line up from the ice hole with a fish on the hook, looking too lazy to even struggle for its life and just accepting the inevitability of the cookfire.

It would have a more vibrant and exciting existence with a little lemon and some herbs roasting it in the pan, Nyx thought. The meat hissed instantly against a hot, oiled pan around midday. He dropped in pre-cut herbs from plastic containers – some sprigs of thyme, parsley, a little fresh rosemary – and sprinkled in generous handfuls of his homemade spice blends to coat the meat in a salty, peppery crust. The smell of the smoke drew Noctis against his shoulder, pink nose flaring as excitedly as a cat’s over a tuna can.

“Didn’t think campfire food could smell that good,” he mused, licking his lips as he watched the meat turn opaque.

“Wait until you see how it tastes.”

With a little lemon juice and a thermos of hot coffee to go with it, they settled down under a heavy, plaid quilt by the campfire to eat. And Nyx had to hand it to himself, he knew his way around a campfire and frying pan. The fish was flakey and full of his home-brought flavors, briny winter flesh balanced against delicate, roasted herbs. It was bright and light as Noct’s delighted little smile next to him.

“You’re getting as good as Iggy,” Noctis teased.

Nyx shouldered into him with a crow of disdain. “ _Getting?_ I’ve _been_ this good before Ignis lit his first stove-top.”

Noctis laughed and bit into another forkful of fish. Everything tasted better when you caught it yourself, anyway. And looking at Noct’s serene face, framed by the blinding, soft whiteness of the wilds around them, Nyx believed it. Somehow, someway, he’d caught Noctis for himself. And nothing felt better than that.


	3. Blustery Weather

Ravus never slept in. Not since before Imperial military drills snapped him awake at every dawn for the past ten years. Not since he was a spoiled child in a plush suite, never expected to be disturbed lest a servant face his tantrums.

Noctis, it would seem, had never grown out of being that child. Of being indulged in his late-day sleeping habits, never expected to be roused before he was ready.

The Prince whined like a scolded puppy and burrowed beneath his mountain of blankets as Ravus drew the curtains apart. Ravus rolled his eyes, huffing in disdain at the childish reaction. But he really had no excuse to drag Noctis out of bed, kicking and screaming.

Opening the curtains unveiled a vicious, swirling blizzard beyond the thick glass of the window. The skyscrapers of Gralea were mere smudges of charcoal beneath the heavy deluge of snow crashing across the city. The window might as well been clipped over with a white sheet, blinding the view of the Imperial city below. It was like peering at a civilization drowned underwater, buildings barely defined through the sunless murk.

Ravus tried not to smile at the grim, ashy gray snow pummeling Gralea. He rather preferred the Imperial capital this way, lost and obscured like every other civilization its Emperor had ever marched on. Most delightful of all, when Ravus checked the news alerts on his phone, he discovered that the whole city was in a state of emergency, and residents were advised to stay indoors until the storm had passed. Schools were closed, many businesses too, and any Imperial officials that weren’t otherwise in attendance at Zegnautus Keep before the storm began were not expected to brave the roads to perform their duties in court, as usual.

Excellent.

Ravus called for breakfast to be brought up, and went about igniting the fireplace in the corner of the room. It was mostly meant to be decorative, he thought – Niflheim was otherwise very clinically designed, expecting central heating to be sufficient enough without the useless nostalgia of an old fashioned fireplace. But it was there for emergencies – came with being in a territory known for its snowstorms.

“Please tell me you’re burning down the Imperial establishment to stay warm,” Noctis grumbled from the bed, voice husky and hoarse from the disuse of slumber and – Ravus rather hoped, for his pride – from the volume of their antics the night before.

“If only,” Ravus grumbled.

Fewer things would please him more than watching the whole of Gralea burn to ash beneath the equally ashy snow. Ravus rose from the fireplace, flames snapping across the logs provided by house-keeping. The servants would knock soon with breakfast and coffee to lubricate the Prince’s sore throat. Noctis tentatively sat up from his den of blankets, all shades of Niflheim’s preferred whites and grays. He was only a face, peering out from a hood of sheets. He blinked blearily out the window at the wails of the blizzard wheezing against the glass.

“Damn. It’s never snowed like that in Lucis before.”

“Nor in Tenebrae. Yet another of Gralea’s exclusive pleasures.”

“It’s a special snowflake, that’s for sure,” Noctis chuckled, raspy as the smoke dissipating in the hearth.

A knock on the door promised a complimentary breakfast had arrived. Ravus dismissed the servant through the door, waiting until their footsteps had vanished down the hall before dragging the cart inside. Noctis sat up a little taller at the promise of food, the haze of sleep in his eyes clearing when he scented coffee.

“Be honest with me, Ravus. How much am I going to hate Gralean coffee?”

Ravus could only lift a brow in silent judgment as he poured them two mugs from the pot. He didn’t prefer coffee himself, raised as he was on the delicate, floral notes of Tenebraen tea, but if he was going to suffer Gralean hospitality, he decided early on he might as well go all in. Their coffee was one such torture. He loaded it up with sugar and milk – even if Noctis wasn’t famous for his sweet tooth, it needed all the sugar it could handle – and presented the bitter mug to the wary Prince.

“It’ll wake you up.”

That was the only compliment Ravus could give it – if one could even consider that a compliment. Noctis sniffed the dark brew, wrinkled his nose, and tried it. His whole fort of blankets shuddered in disgust. But he tried another sip, desperate for caffeine, and the more he drank, the more he was resigned enough to get used to it.

“What if I don’t want to wake up?” he asked, eyes slicing up to Ravus with a knowing grin. “Not like we’ve got anywhere else to be.”

Ravus huffed, suffering a sip of his own coffee. He returned to the cart to inspect their breakfast. A far step up from the bitter coffee – though it was a low bar to meet. Eggs on toast, golden and crusty squares of sourdough seating glistening amber yolks. Sharp cuts of green chives speckled the whites, and a thick, yellow sauce cascaded in artful rivulets across the slices. Mahogany curls of bacon paired along the side of the plates, some bright orange wedges to balance out the carbs.

It smelled palatable enough. One thing he could say for Niflheim cuisine was that they made the most simple dishes seem just a tad bit more elegant than to be mundane. But they always boiled down to the most common ingredients – unless you were sitting at the Emperor’s dinner table, of course. For guests and commoners under the Emperor’s roof, this was the highest caliber of cuisine one got. It wasn’t quite so bad as the coffee.

“Do you really intend to laze all day?” Ravus asked, rolling the cart closer to the bed.

“ _We_ do.”

Once Ravus was close enough, a pale hand flashed from the blankets to snatch him back under the blankets, tugging insistently for Ravus to return beneath the covers to warm him up. As if last night hadn’t been hot enough for him. Ravus sighed and submitted to his need, tucking himself beneath the sheets as Noctis plastered himself against his side.

“At least don’t laze on an empty stomach,” Ravus said, plucking a strip of bacon from the cart to crunch on.

Noctis set his coffee on the cart, stretching across Ravus to reach it. As he did, he straddled Ravus’s waist beneath the covers, seating himself against his chest, arms around his shoulders to wind his fingers through his disheveled silver hair. Noctis smiled, suddenly very, _very_ awake. The coffee might have tasted like a literal bitter pill, but nothing could be argued against its strength.

“How about I satisfy your appetite instead?” Noctis intoned, coffee breath warming Ravus’s lips.

He shouldn’t have found it attractive, but alas, Noctis had a strange magic over mornings, odd, given his apparent dislike of them. Ravus’s stomach growled, but he wasn’t sure what he was hungry for more: breakfast or bedding the Crown Prince?

While the storm raged outside across shivering Gralea, he had plenty of time to satisfy his cravings.


End file.
